


Just Another Day in Paradise

by hello_goodbi



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Dad!John, I have no idea what I'm doing, M/M, No Plot, Old Married Couple, Other, dad!Paul, i'm just rambling, this has
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 07:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_goodbi/pseuds/hello_goodbi
Summary: Random snapshots in the life of John and Paul, their children, their pets, and their blissfully domestic life.





	Just Another Day in Paradise

Neither of them - well, mostly John (Paul had _always_ wanted kids) - had planned for this to happen. John had been more than happy to settle down in their small house with the cats and the dog and grow old together. And then Jude, the little _angel_ , crawled his way into their lives and their hearts.

Paul wasn’t too surprised. John didn’t act like he was one for kids, but Paul knew his husband’s heart had a soft spot buried down in there. They’d filled out the paperwork - _just in case_ , Paul said when John tried to protest - and gotten on the waiting list. They’d gone to the hospital to see Jude - _just to see,_ Paul insisted, _just in case_ \- and it was no surprise that the baby, swaddled in a blue blanket with cats on it (provided by John), became a permanent part of the family. The moment he first held little Jude in his arms, John was absolutely smitten.

That first night, it took Paul almost an hour to finally convince John to put their blue bundle of joy down in the (newly-built IKEA) crib in the spare bedroom, and even longer to convince John to come to bed instead of staring at Jude all night.

“We’re gonna need a bigger house, Pops,” John said, as he and Paul lay awake that night, anxiously checking the baby monitor every five minutes.

“And why would that be?” Paul smiled tiredly, amused by the look of childlike joy that had been plastered over his husband’s face all day.

“Damn kid’s wormed his way into my heart. I might want more.”

So they found another house, and began the exhaustive process of moving. Though the new house was only four miles away from the old one, moving with a toddler was a mistake Paul vowed to never, ever repeat. Jude was everywhere, ripping into boxes that weren’t taped properly, ruining neatly organized piles, crying when his favorite shirts were accidentally boxed up.

“I’m never moving ever again, so help me _God_ ,” John had grumbled, Jude (crying) balanced in one arm and a small box of kitchenware precariously held by the other. But, somehow, they made it. And that first night in the new house, after Jude had flung spaghetti all over his highchair ( _and_ the floor, _and_ Paul, and _even_ poor Martha), after reading the little boy a bedtime story and then collapsing into bed with his husband, exhausted, John knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this life was what he wanted.

It wasn’t long after the move that Nora came, filling room three of the four-bedroom house with bright smiles and constant giggles. Jude, four years old and willing to talk anybody’s ears off, took to her immediately.

“This is Nora,” Paul said, gently, showing sleepy the one-year-old in his arms to a very nervous - but very excited - Jude.

“Noah!” Jude said, excitedly, and from there on, the two were inseparable. Jude tried to teach her everything he knew, from how to talk to how to hold a fork to what kind of bug was what. Despite their best efforts, Paul and John could not get their little boy to say “Nora” instead of “Noah,” and so their little girl had a nickname.

And that’s where they were now. There was Nora, three, at preschool three days a week; Jude, six, in first grade and an avid soccer player; Martha, eight, busy being the most adorable dog ever ( _she’s just a dog_ , Paulie, John would grumble, over and over again); Major and Minor, nine, John’s perfect little angels ( _they’re just cats, John_ , Paul would sigh after John spent half of their grocery money on cat treats again); Paul, thirty-one, music appreciation and choir teacher at the local high school (Go Tigers!); and John, thirty-three, running a graphic design business from home. All seven of them in their four bedroom house in, of _all_ places, the suburbs. Domestic bliss, Paul thought (and John did too, but he’d _never_ admit it).

“Paulie, love,” John said on the other end of the phone line, jarring Paul out of his thoughts and back into the teacher’s lounge and his sad, _sad_ Caesar salad (dressing homemade by his loving husband. Thank God _one_ of them could cook).

“Yes, John?” Paul responded, pushing the wilted and thoroughly unappetizing lettuce around the bowl. He’d been _trying_ to start eating healthier - John was worried about their cholesterol, and Paul was trying to cut out meat anyways - but sometimes he just wanted something _fried_.

“What do you have to tell me?” John asked, impatience beginning to creep into his voice. John was in the middle of a Very Important™ project that was due at the end of the week - which he’d probably been procrastinating for at least a month - and he probably wasn’t too happy about being disturbed.

“Oh. Right. Jude conveniently forgot to tell us he has a soccer game tonight. Just got a text from the coach. D’you think you can afford to make it?” A heavy sigh. “It’s okay if you can’t, Johnny,” Paul was quick to say, “you’ll just have to pick Nora up.” Managing his schedule was more than enough for Paul, much less those of two children _and_ his husband.

“Christ, Paul, you know I can’t get any work done with Nora running around the house.” John sounded exasperated, but Paul knew him well enough to know there was a smirk on his husband’s face.

“So does this mean you’ll get Nora?”

“Of course, Paulie. Now I’ve got to get back to this fucking damned project,” John grumbled, and Paul knew that on the other end of the line John was squinting -- glaring, almost, but not quite that angry _yet_ \-- at the computer screen. “Oh, and don’t forget. Sixth hour choir. You wanted to talk to Jake What’s-his-face into doing a solo.”

“You are a blessing sent straight from the heavens. I’d totally forgotten” Paul pushed his soggy lettuce around. “Would it be against protocol for you to bring me fries? The salad is just _not_ doing it for me, despite your lovely homemade dressing.”

“Cholesterol, Paul,” John warned. “Can’t have you dying on me.”

“You’re the worst,” Paul grumbled. “Jude’s game is at the rec fields. Field seven, I think. Just in case you decide to come.”

“We’ll see how my fucking damned project goes. Love you.”

“Love you too, Johnny.” Paul was almost 100% sure John had hung up before Paul had finished speaking, but that was a good sign. It meant John was actually focused on and eager to get back to what he was doing. He absentmindedly wondered how much of a mess the house would be when he got home that night (John was a messy worker, but that was okay. Paul didn’t mind cleaning as long as John was getting the bills paid).

Four and a half hours later, after managing to talk Jake What’s-his-face into doing a choir and grading eight different essays on the influence of Beethoven (boring, he knew, but the man was a _genius_ on the piano), Paul was helping Jude put his shinguards on.

“Is Daddy an’ Noah comin’?” Jude asked, swinging his free leg back and forth as Paul wrestled with a shinguard.

“I’m not sure, baby. Daddy’s working on a very important project right now,” Paul saidgently as he finally succeeded with the second shinguard and sock combo. Jude’s face wrinkled into a look of disappointment.

“Coach said I could play forward this game. I’m gonna score a goal for Daddy an’ I want him to see.”

“Well, he’ll be at your next game for sure,” Paul said, tying Jude’s cleats. “Now go play! If you put lots of effort in and play hard, we’ll go get some ice cream with Daddy and Nora after the game. How does that sound?”

“Good, Pops,” Jude smiled, jumping to his feet and wrapping his arms around Paul. Paul squatted down to hug the little boy back, and then patted him on the shoulder as Jude ran off to join the rest of his team.

Paul was intently watching the game -- it was _amazing_ how involved he could get in a first grade soccer game -- when a familiar squeal of joy made him turn his head.

“Pop!” Norah said excitedly, running towards Paul, who lifted her up and spun her in the air.

“There’s my Noah!” Paul said as he set the giggling girl down. “How was your day, princess?”

“Good!” Nora said, and then delved into a deep, toddler-gibberish-filled explanation of her day. As she spoke, Paul nodding and smiling along, John wrapped one arm around his husband’s waist.

“An’ now here to see Jude play!” Nora finished her story.

“That’s right,” John smiled warmly. “See? He’s number seven,” John pointed at Jude, and Nora waved excitedly. John, who had had the bright idea to bring a blanket for them to sit on, spread it out as Nora got to work with her horse toys.

“How was your day?” Paul asked as he sat down with John, the sounds of Nora whinnying as she played her favorite game (“Howsie Magic,” she called it) in the background.

“Got enough done I could come see Jude,” John shrugged.

“Jude’s going to be so happy you’re here,” Paul smiled. “He wants to score a goal for you.”

“We have the best kid, don’t we?” John grinned. Paul was glad to see that the John’s large ego had evolved to include Jude and Nora as well as himself.

“The best kids,” Paul agreed.

Jude scored two goals that game, which he was _very_ proud of scoring “for Daddy and Pops.” Nora, who had refused to take her three o’clock nap, was sleeping in the arms of John, and Jude was in a good enough mood he even held Paul’s hand as they walked out of the rec fields.

When they got home, both kids with ice cream smeared all over their faces, Paul was pleasantly surprised. John hadn’t left a mess at all, and for _once_ Nora went to bed without a fit. John and Paul sat on the couch after the kids had gone asleep, watching some shitty reality show while Paul graded papers.

 _Just another day in paradise_ , Paul thought before he fell asleep on the couch.


End file.
